


Gimme Twice

by cresselia



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:27:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresselia/pseuds/cresselia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can think of worse things than having Amy Santiago play nurse with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gimme Twice

The thing is, it's not really unusual to see Amy drop a guy significantly bigger than her. She's been at the Nine-Nine for three years, and she went through the same training as Rosa, who went to the same academy as him. Jake has seen them both throw down perps twice their size. For Rosa, it's never a surprise – she oozes tough – but sometimes with Amy's color coded case files and sensible chunky heels, it's easy to forget she's just as tough when it comes down to it.

 

They're out together with Gina's dance troupe to celebrate her birthday at a bar. Holt and Terry stay around long enough to be polite before Terry says he needs to get home to his baby girls and Holt doesn't even try to make up an excuse – just says his goodbyes and exits. Rosa sits next to her boyfriend at the bar counter, his arm draped across her shoulders while Gina and her friends gyrate together in a group dance.

 

It leaves Boyle isolated, and he huddles up with Amy and Jake on the other side of the counter. Amy never knows quite how to act as parties where everyone is drunk, and Jake just doesn't want to be near Gina's troupe lest he feel like being uncomfortably groped again. So they seclude themselves to a corner, getting along for once and bouncing quarters into empty shot glasses.

 

Of course, no one is allowed to have a good night for long.

 

Rosa was barely able to slide into the empty stool on Amy's left with knitted eyebrows before they see him push through the crowd: The Vulture, who is of course wearing sunglasses inside of a bar at night.

 

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” he bellows as he approaches, sliding in between Jake and Amy's seats, resting against the counter. “I didn't know you kiddies were old enough to be out this late.”

 

“Just beat it,” Jake groans, sliding his glass away, “We're here for Gina's birthday. Don't ruin it.”

 

The Vulture leans forward and peers around the bar. “Oh, you mean the hot girl dancing with the butterface over there? Yeah, I'd that.” He pauses and leans back, tilting his head towards Amy with a grin. “Unless I get a better offer, of course.”

 

“I would rather dunk my head in a vat of Boyle's desk yogurt,” she replies, throwing back a shot.

 

Jake grins behind the Vulture and Rosa snickers next to her. He scowls and places a hand on her knee. “C'mon, Santiago. Don't be like that.”

 

“I would highly recommend getting your hand off of me,” she replies quickly, all of the amusement draining from her voice.

 

He meets her words with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows, sliding his hand up to her thigh. Before anyone else can step in, Amy reels back and lands a punch against his nose, sending him flying against Jake, who drops him onto the floor.

 

“Holy shit, Santiago!”

 

Jake looks up at her with wide eyes, and it seems to hit her what she's done. Her jaw drops, and her hands fly up to cover her mouth in shock. Behind her, Rosa is smirking and placing a hand on her shoulder in pride. The look on Amy's face can only be described as terrified as she watches the Vulture pick himself up off the ground, and Jake and Boyle maneuver their way on the other side of him.

 

“What the fuck,” he snarls, wiping blood from his nose. “I'm reporting that to your captain.”

 

The four of them break out into complaints altogether, their words jumbling.

 

“You can't do that!”

 

“You were the one who was grabbing at her!”

 

“She _warned_ you to stop touching her.”

 

“You really think Holt will do something when he knows what happened?”

 

“You really think I care? It's my word against all of yours,” he sneers, crossing his arms against his chest.

 

Jake glances at Amy behind his shoulder and finds her uncharacteristically quiet, and it hits him that she's not going to do anything – she's still mortified from throwing the punch. He knows how Holt will react when the full story comes out, but it will be even better if he never has to hear about it. Rosa is too gruff, and Boyle, despite meaning well, doesn't have the nerve to get in the middle of this.

 

“Look, just let it go. It's just a bloody nose – is it really worth it?” Jake sighs, taking a step forward. It's not meant to be a threatening move, but the Vulture stands up straighter and sets his jaw.

 

“I really don't think you want to get yourself in this, Peralta.”

 

“Amy's my partner – I'm not going to let you strong arm her like this.”

 

“It's not your business.”

 

“Well, I'm making it my business, then.”

 

Okay, so maybe his words come off a little more aggressive than he means, but the Vulture is already defensive by the time he spits them out – getting punched in the nose will do that to a man. He shoves Jake with a little force.

 

“Dude, stop it.”

 

“You clearly want to play knight in shining armor. Put your fists where you mouth is.”

 

He shoves him again, and Amy sighs behind him. “Jake, just walk away. We can leave – I don't care. I'll explain everything to Holt tomorrow.”

 

“No! I'm not letting the Vulture get his way this time,” Jake retorts, turning back to the smirking man in front of him. He hears Rosa mutter something along the lines of ' _Men_ ' behind him before the Vulture moves to make another shove. Jake catches him this time, pushing him back. It seems to be all he needed, and the Vulture takes a swing at him.

 

The punch barely grazes his cheek when he dodges it, moving away from Amy, Rosa, and Boyle. He sees everyone, Gina and her friends included, stop and stare at them. The Vulture bolts after him, tackling him into a pool table. The collision causes some of the balls to rolls off, and the Vulture finally lands a hit against his mouth. Jake retaliates by headbutting him off, sending him stumbling backwards. Before either of them can make another move, he hears the bartender yelling, and Amy and Gina are grabbing him. He sees Rosa and Boyle rushing the Vulture out of the bar.

 

“You're an idiot,” Amy chastises, as she grabs either side of his face, looking for signs of injury. “We should've just left.”

 

His head is killing, and he knows if he still wasn't running on adrenaline from the fight, having Amy's face this close to his would be setting his nerves on fire for other reasons entirely. He didn't necessarily stay stubborn for her – she made it abundantly clear that she could defend herself only moments before – but it was at least partially for her. But the Vulture really did deserve to have someone knock him out, and, hey, they were off duty.

 

“You know you're not going to get in trouble, right?” Jake asks, gently pulling her hands away from his cheeks. “Holt will stick up for you.”

 

Her cheeks flush. “I know. That's why you didn't need to pull something like that--”

 

“Hey dummies,” Gina says, skidding to a stop next to them, “sorry to cut your little love-fest short, but we're being kicked out of the bar. Time to skedaddle.”

 

Jake catches sight of the irate bartender and knows instantly that their time is up. The three of them head towards the exit and are greeted by Gina's dance troupe outside. Rosa, Boyle, and the Vulture are nowhere to be found. He suspects they're in the process of taking him back to his apartment.

 

Gina turns to them as soon as they're outside, lips pursed. “So, thank you both for ruining my birthday party. And I mean that sincerely because I love me a good bar fight. But I'm not done celebrating, so we're going to head somewhere else. You two, however, are _not_ invited because you look super busted up, and I can't be around that right now.”

 

If it were anyone else but Gina, they might have been offended.

 

She stalks off with her friends, leaving them standing alone at the sidewalk. He barely registers the feel of Amy's hand on his back from assuming he needed support to keep his balance. When Gina is out of view, he clears his throat, catching her attention.

 

“So, uh, did you need a ride back to your apartment?”

 

Amy looks at him for a moment, expression almost unreadable to him. “Your lip is bleeding, you know.”

 

“Is it?” He wipes his thumb against his bottom lip, and sure enough, there's blood when he pulls it away. “Well, damn.”

 

“Come on, you can drive me home, and I'll clean you up,” she says with a sigh, finally pulling her hand away from his back. He finally notices its presence now that it's gone.

 

“You don't have to, Amy--”

 

“I know you won't go to the hospital, and you probably won't take of yourself correctly,” she cuts him off, eyes narrowed. He knows it's pointless to argue.

 

Besides, he can think of worse things than having Amy Santiago play nurse with him.

 

As soon as they climb into his car, Amy opens his glove compartment and digs through it. All she finds is his registration, some plastic straws, and an empty pack of gum. She turns to him with a look of exasperation.

 

“You don't have any napkins in your car?”

 

They're already en route to her apartment, and he shoots her a skeptical look. “Would you really trust napkins from my car in the first place?”

 

She knows he's right and slinks against the seat, arms crossed and a slight pout tugging at her lips.

 

“... What do you think the Vulture is going to do?” she finally asks after silence falls between them.

 

“Tell Holt, definitely. If he hasn't already, at least, but he probably would've called by now. My phone is on silent.”

 

He catches Amy sneak a discreet look at hers and shove it back in her pocket with a relieved exhale. “He's going to make our life a living hell.”

 

Jake raises an eyebrow “Holt or the Vulture?”

 

“The Vulture. Possibly both of them.”

 

“Amy, you're not going to get in trouble for punching him,” Jake says quickly. “He had his hands on you, and you told him to get off. If anything, I'll be the one who takes this hit.”

 

She jolts up in her seat with a frown. “You were trying to defend me. Holt values loyalty – that has to count for something.”

 

“Yeah, well we'll see.”

 

Incidentally, the bar Gina chose wasn't too far from Amy's apartment, and he parks his car against the sidewalk. The pair slinks out of the car and up the stairs until they reach her apartment. It's just as he remembers it: elderly and floral. Her couch has a quilt thrown over the back that he suspects was actually made by a family member, and the coasters on her coffee table are covered with doilies.

 

“Just go out in the kitchen,” Amy directs him, as she hangs up her jacket on a hook. “You can throw your coat wherever. Just not on the floor. Or anywhere where it could fall and break something.”

 

He wants to roll his eyes at her, but the force from the headbutt is starting to kick in, and he can feel the beginnings of a headache. He follows her instructions and heads towards the kitchen, choosing to hop up on her counter instead of taking a seat or leaning against something just because he knows it will probably grate on her nerves more.

 

When she finally makes her way back out to the kitchen area, her dress and heels have been traded in for leggings, a large sweater, and a pair of fluffy slippers that seem like the most un-Amy things he's ever seen in his entire life. She must have spotted him looking at them because she gives an embarrassed smile.

 

“They were a gift from Kylie – kind of ridiculous looking, but really comfortable.”

 

“I like them,” he says, the taste of copper tainting the inside of his bottom lip. Right. The bleeding. Forgot about that.

 

Amy rolls her eyes and hands him a napkin. “Use that to apply pressure to the cut until it bleeds out.”

 

The air between them is comfortable for once, so he does what he's told without question. He glances at her occasionally as she digs through a travel sized first aid kit, looking for something. When she finally finds it, he spots the small bottle of antiseptic in her hand.

 

“Amy...”

 

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion until she spots the glare he's directing at the bottle in her hand. “Seriously, Peralta? It's only going to sting for a second. I need to clean the cut, or it might scar.”

 

“Good,” he protests, pulling the napkin away from his mouth. “I can use it to pick up girls – I'll tell them I got it on a case.”

 

“You're ridiculous,” she groans, but she tosses the bottle back into the bag. “At least put ice on it – I can already see the swelling start.”

 

“Fine! But I'm not going to like it,” he says, more for show than anything. He thinks Amy can tell because she bites back a small smile as she fills a small baggie with ice cubes and wraps it in a face cloth.

 

After she hands it to him, he touches his forehead gently, causing the back of his neck to flame. “I think you're going to get a bruise there.”

 

“He should be arrested for assaulting God's greatest masterpiece.”

 

Amy shakes her head, lips pressed tightly together disapprovingly as she shakes her head. “Remind me never to do anything nice for you again. You're way too obnoxious for your own good.”

 

“Remind me never to defend your honor,” he retorts, and she looks guilty for a moment before it disappears.

 

“You didn't defend my honor – I did that.”

 

“Details, details...”

 

He finally manages a real grin out of her that she tries to hide quickly after. It feels so good to make her smile; he wants to do it again.

 

“But, really, that punch was impressive,” he says with ease. Her smile widens a little, and it emboldens him to the point of stupidity. “Kind of hot, too.”

 

The air falls silent between them, and he berates himself for letting that slip out. Of course it _was_ hot, but he wasn't supposed to tell her that. Besides, she doesn't look like she knows how to process the comment.

 

“... Thanks. I think,” she finally says, but she doesn't look angry, so he counts it as a win.

 

“Call me crazy, but there's just something inherently attractive about a girl that I know could probably beat me up if she wanted to.”

 

“You're so weird.” She grins at him the tiniest bit before averting her gaze to the counter and hoisting herself up on it next to him. “I kind of thought your type was M.E.'s with really weird fetishes.”

 

He wants to protest, but she looks so proud with her large smirk and swinging legs – he can't take it away from her. Amy Santiago is many things, but adorable is the most dangerous of them all. It does strange things to his stomach and makes him forget she's out of his reach.

 

“But, uh,” she trails off, averting her gaze back down to her tiled floor, “thanks. You know, for being a good partner.”

 

“Right. Being a good partner.”

 

His voice sounds unconvincing even to his own ears, and Amy is five times smarter than him. She looks over at him almost immediately after the words leave his lips, and he regrets them instantly.

 

“You okay?” she asks, biting against the inside of her cheek. “Do you need to lie down or something? You sound weird.”

 

The panic floods through his body. She's going to catch on if he entertains her questions, and he's not ready for her to know yet. “Actually, I should probably get going.”

 

“Are you sure you're good to drive? You can crash here if you want.” It's so unlike Amy that if he wasn't already so panicked, he might have realized it.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine – promise.” He slides off of her counter, Amy following after him with a frown as he heads towards her door. “See you on Monday!”

 

She barely manages out a goodbye of her own, and he's bolting down her hallway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the amy punch wasn't in my initial plan for this. the original idea was having the vulture call amy a not-so-nice-name and having jake react on instinct, but i have a hard time not having amy throw at least one punch in her own honor. 
> 
> this is shorter than what i'd have liked, but the placing for this is sometime between the bet and tactical village, so a confessional scene just didn't feel organic to me. incidentally, that cut the estimated length of this down. still not necessarily a happy fic, but it's better than the angst i've been churning out for them lately. i'll write them something happy again. one day.


End file.
